


Goading

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: Kinkbruary 2021 [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Feelings, Introspection, Kinkbruary (Doctor Who), Pussy Spanking, Spanking, goading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29171136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: “Can’t you just be normal and ask me to spank you?”“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Doctor,” Missy simpered. “If I promise to be good, will you go easy on me?”Missy can't ever do things the easy way, can she?
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Missy
Series: Kinkbruary 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139585
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Goading

**Author's Note:**

> ... this grew feelings out of the blue. I have no idea where they came from, but I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Contains spoilers for the end of series 10.

"Missy," the Doctor said, and she was aware that she was gritting her teeth, but she couldn't seem to stop, "why are you being like this?"

"Like what?" Missy fluttered her eyelashes at the Doctor. "Am I not the very _picture_ of helpfulness?"

"You said that we had an emergency to investigate," the Doctor said, and yes, she could _definitely_ hear her patience wearing thin. It sounded a bit like someone scraping a plate. 

"I said it was very important, yes," Missy agreed. "Of _vital_ importance!"

"We're in the honeymoon suite of a luxury asteroid," the Doctor said, and she sat herself down on the bed, massaging her temples. Both pulses were banging away, and each throb was like someone hitting a tennis ball against the walls of her skull.

Metaphorically.

Was this what Zeus had felt like, before Athena came rushing out?

"And there was a mystery," Missy said. Her tone was solicitous. "I just neglected to mention that it was a fairly easy to solve one."

"It's easy to solve because _you're the one who did it in the first place_ ," the Doctor said. She really wished she'd stop getting angry. She didn't like letting Missy rile her up like this. An old Earth saying popped into her head, unexpectedly; _don't ever wrestle with a pig in the mud; you won't get anywhere, and the pig will enjoy it too much_. 

Was that it? It felt like she was missing part of it. Or missing part of something. 

"In fairness," Missy said, and she held her hands up, wriggling her fingers like she was doing a jazz number, "it wasn't _current_ me."

The picture on the wall had been the Master, back when he wore a lot of black and sported a goatee. Although come to think of it, that suited several different incarnations, didn't it? The Master usually found a winning formula and stuck to it, whether it be shrinking or hypnotism or black gloves. 

"I can hear you thinking from here," said Missy, leaning against the chest of drawers. "It was a simple enough fix, wasn't it?"

The Doctor had passed herself off as a galactic service member (thank you, psychic paper), and more or less solved the issue. She'd even found the missing people - tissue compressed and on display in the souvenir shop. 

There had been much wailing and gnashing of teeth, but they'd gotten the room comped, and Missy had agreed before the Doctor could argue. And the Doctor was tired and heartsick in ways that she didn't want to look into, and this was a bad idea. Doing anything with Missy was a bad idea. 

"Missy," the Doctor said, "what are you hoping to get out of any of this? Other than getting on my nerves." The Doctor had a feeling that giving Missy any clue just how frazzled she was feeling was a bad idea, and yet. 

"I just want to spend time with you, darling," said Missy, and the bed dipped down beside the Doctor, as Missy sat down next to her. "Since you've upgraded, I feel like I barely know you!"

_Maybe if I was nicer to her, the mad bloke in the purple suit wouldn't be quite so Like That_ , the Doctor thought distantly. _Or maybe that makes it worse. I lose, no matter what I do_. She snorted, her nose wrinkling. _So what else is new?_

"I smell smoke," Missy said, and she tapped the Doctor on the temple with one crimson painted fingernail. "What's going on in that head of yours? I could, of course, check myself," she added, almost as an afterthought, and her fingers were very light as they pushed the Doctor's hair back behind one ear. 

"Missy," the Doctor said, and there must have been some hint of warning in her tone, because Missy paused, cold fingertip still pressed against the Doctor's temple. 

"I've not heard that voice in a long time," Missy said. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Missy," the Doctor said again, and then made a surprised noise, as Missy _flung_ herself across the Doctor's lap. 

"I've been a bad girl," Missy said, and she squirmed around, until she was lying flat on her belly, her corset rigid against the Doctor's knees. "You should punish me." 

"Are you kidding me?" The Doctor's voice went up half an octave in outrage, and she was getting _entirely_ too flustered. 

"I'd never kid about something this serious," Missy said, her face deadly serious. She propped herself up on her elbows, and used her hands to frame her face, blinking coquettishly even in her twisted up position. "Come now, Doctor, don't you want to teach me a lesson?"

_I do_ , the Doctor thought wearily, _but not like this._

"I've been an awfully bad girl," Missy said, all sweetness and light, and the Doctor grit her teeth. 

"Missy," the Doctor said, yet again, and now she just sounded tired.

"Come now, Doctor," Missy said, and now her tone had gotten sharper. "We both know you love this sort of thing. Not so long ago, a certain _something_ would be pressing into my stomach, even now." She wriggled on top of the Doctor's lap, and the Doctor bit her lip. 

"I might be different now, y'know," the Doctor said, and her voice was very quiet. It seemed to be absorbed by the plush interior. Everything was red velvet and thick carpeting, which would have been a nightmare to clean without a sonic cleaner. 

“You might be,” Missy said, and she was wriggling some more, her skirt riding up. “You know you want to, Doctor,” she said. “I’ve been a _very_ naughty girl.” Her tone was going wheedling again, and there was no way she’d assume that it would convince the Doctor.

Or maybe she was trying to rile up the Doctor. That was definitely an option. 

“Can’t you just be normal and _ask_ me to spank you?” The Doctor watched her own hand grab the hem of Missy’s skirt, shoving it up the curve of Missy’s arse, along with the slip under it.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Doctor,” Missy simpered, and she shrugged out of her jacket, letting it drop on the ground in a crumpled pile. “If I promise to be good, will you go easy on me?”

The Doctor made a frustrated noise, and she landed a slap to Missy’s rump. She hadn’t meant to, not really - she wasn’t the kind of person who hit other people when they didn’t ask for it.

Although really, Missy _had_ asked for it, technically?

The Doctor slapped Missy’s backside again, a little harder this time, and Missy gave a delighted little wriggle. 

“You can hit me harder than _that_ ,” she scolded. “Put your back into it!” Her accent came out thick - as thick as the Doctor’s had been, when she’d had angry eyebrows and white hair. 

The Doctor slapped her again, right over the curve where her ass met her thighs. The stockings were in the way, and She probably should have pulled them down, or ripped them, but then she’d have to think about what it was she was doing. She just hit, slap after slap, and she watched the way Missy’s backside jiggled with the onslaught.

“It’s like being spanked by a robot,” Missy groused, and that jerked the Doctor out of her haze. 

The memory of Bill’s voice, robotic and mechanical. 

_I waited for you_.

A flash of rage overtook her, like a line of matches going up. The next blow was loud enough that it echoed in her ears, and her palm was starting to get sore. 

“Ouch!” Missy jumped. 

“Is that what you wanted?” The Doctor’s voice was coming out surprisingly low, flat. _She hasn’t done that yet_ , she thought, as she hit Missy’s arse, Missy’s thighs. Hit after hit after hit, and she was putting more force behind each hit. Her hand was going to go numb soon.

She’d done this sort of thing before - she’d even done it with Missy, back in the Vault, done it with the Master when the two of them had engaged in all their various dalliances back in the day. But now it was the two of them, here, and the Doctor knew what Missy had done, knew what Missy _would_ do, and she was tired. 

She was tired, and then there was a hand on her cheek, and she blinked. 

Missy had twisted around, and she was cupping the Doctor’s cheek. Her expression was… concerned. “I’m the one getting pummeled here,” Missy said. “Why’ve you got the waterworks going?”

The Doctor should have shoved Missy off of her lap, should have stormed off and done… something. Fought, argued. Anything that wouldn’t betray Bill and countless others. She shouldn’t have pressed Missy’s hand against her face, shouldn’t have kissed Missy’s palm. The look Missy was giving her was so _soft_ , and the Doctor couldn’t take it anymore. It was a mockery to Bill, to the innumerable people that Missy had killed, both as her present self, as the selves she’d been. As the self she would be. 

She awkwardly shoved Missy onto the bed, and Missy let herself be shoved. She made an indignant noise when her backside hit the mattress, and she was sprawled out on the bed, ungainly and all elbows for a moment. “What’s all this, then?” She adjusted herself, to gain back a bit more dignity, and something about that got under the Doctor’s skin. 

Of course it did. Everything Missy did got under her skin. 

The Doctor pressed Missy’s thighs open, and she shoved the skirt up. She hauled Missy’s stockings and knickers down her legs, not even bothering to remove Missy’s boots, just pulling them down low enough that she could duck under the awkward mess of it and kneel on the floor between Missy’s knees.

“Well, this is a familiar position,” Missy said, and she was smirking. Then she _howled_ , as the Doctor’s palm connected with the pale, tender skin of her inner thigh. 

“Is this more what you were thinking about?” The Doctor kept her tone even, as she hit Missy and hit her, slap after slap turning the milky skin a deeper red. Maybe it would turn purple, if she kept this up. Make Missy turn as purple as one of her suits. “Is this what you wanted?” 

Missy was moaning, her head thrown back and her heels digging into the Doctor’s back. Her boots were going to leave prints on the Doctor’s coat, and her hair was escaping its pins, turning into a wild mass around her face. She looked like some kind of terrifying woman from a myth - Boudicea, maybe, or if Helen of Troy had decided to go feral and take up the spear. Missy’s fingers were digging into the duvet, and her knuckles were turning white.

_She hasn’t done it yet_ , the Doctor thought, as her hits moved closer to the juncture of Missy’s thighs, the curly hair pasted down by a slick film of arousal. _She hasn’t run into her other self yet. I’d know if she’d had,_ There was a scent someone picked up, when they’d crossed their own timestream, like walking through a cloud of skunk spray.

_Is it even right to be punishing her like this? For that? Is that what I’m doing? She hasn’t done it yet. She’s trying to be good now. Sort of._ The Doctor stared at her own hand on the reddened flesh of Missy’s inner thigh, the pink, openness of Missy’s cunt, then to Missy’s face. 

Her best enemy’s eyes glittered at her. “Well?” She drew the word out, and added a few extra vowels in for good measure. One perfect eyebrow arched.

The Doctor drew her arm back, and she slapped Missy’s vulva, a sharp, open handed slap. Missy yowled like a wildcat, her thighs clamping shut, then spreading wider. She wailed again, when the Doctor delivered another hit, so wet that she was dripping into the bottom of her skirt. They’d need to wash things, before they left. Or maybe they’d just traipse off to the TARDIS, smelling like sex, becuase this was the honeymoon suite and... 

“Doctor,” Missy said, and her voice was ragged. “Didn’t think y’had it… in you to be rough like this.” Missy’s little pink tongue darted out, licking her lips, and the Doctor’s eyes followed the sweep of it. 

The Doctor landed another slap to Missy’s vulva, and then she grabbed it and _squeezed_ , her fingers slipping between Missy’s labia, her fingertip against Missy’s clit. She rubbed the little nub, and Missy’s hips jerked forward, her breath becoming more shallow and desperate. 

Missy came against the Doctor’s hand, the muscle of her entrance pulsing against the Doctor’s palm. It was an awkward position for the Doctor’s wrist, but she held it, as Missy rode out her climax. When she pulled her hand away, Missy flopped back on the bed with a mild _thump_. 

“Wow,” Missy said. “You certainly know how to show a girl a good time. I was a bit worried this new body of yours wouldn’t be up for the task, but… pho _ee_.” 

The Doctor sighed heavily, and she pressed her face into Missy’s thigh. She sighed again when Missy’s fingers began to sift through her hair - she shouldn’t have taken so much comfort from the feeling of it, of the sensation of the double pulse that gently rocked through Missy’s body.

And yet. 

She rubbed her wet cheek into the soft, hot skin, and she tried to ignore the desperate, empty ache between her own legs. She pressed her thighs together, and she took a selfish moment to savor the little sliver of intimacy with her oldest friend.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Kinkbruary! You can find more about Kinkbruary, including the prompt list, here!
> 
> https://twitter.com/_zaffrin/status/1352316453232504833
> 
> Also, come find me on twitter, TheseusInTheMaz!


End file.
